


I Drive Your Truck

by Bulletproofseb



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Military Background, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-26 15:14:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14404803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bulletproofseb/pseuds/Bulletproofseb
Summary: Steve takes out his emotions on the road, driving the old pickup truck given to him by someone from his past. Based off of "I Drive Your Truck" by Lee Brice.





	I Drive Your Truck

The old tires raced the thoughts in his head as he drove down the abandoned road, trying his hardest to clear his mind, but the feelings disappointedly coming back faster than they left. His hands on 10 and 2, foot on the gas as his mind meandered.

This never worked, and he still wasn’t sure why he continued to gravitate back to the rusted truck, knowing full and well that it’s only going to bring sad memories flood his conscience. He could have saved him.

_“Bucky!” he screamed, lunging forward to try and grab him, but it was too late._

Steve came back to reality when he saw a squirrel dart into the road, and he slammed on breaks in an effort to make up for what could have been. The small creature finally made up its mind, crossing the road.

He knew he could drive, seeing clearly that the animal was safe and he had no chance of hitting him, but he stopped for a moment. He looked around the vehicle that once belonged to his best friend, seeing little objects and pieces of clothing that reminded him of what he lost.

_Please accept my deepest sympathy for the loss of your son, Sergeant James B. Barnes, on August 23, in Afghanistan._

He picked up a worn baseball cap, the Brooklyn Dodgers emblem hardly recognizable. He was an old-fashioned guy, no matter how many times people pointed out that they were no longer the  _Brooklyn_  Dodgers, Bucky ignored them and proudly showed off the aged merchandise.

He set the hat back down on the dashboard, looking back and seeing loose pieces clothing thrown around and the pair of army boots sat in the middle of the back seat. Steve remembers him always making jokes about the car being his mobile closet. A tear slowly falling down his face but quickly wiping it away, thinking what Bucky would do if he saw him crying.

_“C'mon, punk, whatcha cryin’ for?” he says wistfully, “it’s not like you’re gonna miss me that much.” He practically forces the words out of his mouth. And before he knows it, Steve is holding the lifeless body of his childhood best friend._

All of the sudden, his phone buzzes and he picks it up out of the cupholder, seeing it was from his Mom, texting him and asking if he was okay. She was always checking up on him since they got the news of Bucky’s passing, never knowing what he could or would do while unattended.

**Mom: How’s it goin’ sweetie? Are you going to that support group today?**

He’d been attending a local support group for his PTSD, and honestly, he didn’t hate it. It made him feel better to know that he wasn’t alone and that he always had support from people who understood what he was going through.

He was getting better, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have off days. Days where all he wants to do is be alone with his thoughts. Days where all he can bring himself to do is to drive around in the old truck, thinking about his best and worst times with his best friend, his partner in crime, and his hero.


End file.
